Bishop to Rook
by Vanessa S. Quest
Summary: Gideon has long been out of sight and out of mind to the BAU, relationships developed and changed, and suddenly, Gideon feels like he should reconnect. He isn't happy with what he sees. Graphicish  Slash.
1. Queen's Pawn

Several words could be used to describe Jason Gideon, and while retired was one such word, dedicated, emotionally distant, and emotionally damaged were others. Even as his own attachment to his protégé Dr. Spencer Reid had been severed by his own hand, in the form of a neatly scripted letter, he still felt a certain amount of entitlement to the young man's life. For Christ's sake, he was like a son to Gideon. Sadly, that line was carried to the extremes of being estranged from him, just like he was estranged with his real biological heir.

It didn't change the fact that he was still curious about him and the happenings in his life. He knew it was his own selfishness, his own gall to think he was so entitled. But of course he was entitled, he practically raised Reid as far as his FBI career went. He had been hand picked _by_ Gideon to join the BAU no less! Yes, he knew it was foolish to feel any form of entitlement over another human being, and yet, here he was with that very same belief that he was in fact entitled and that it made the most sense in the world for him to be. Gideon pawed at the white bishop, twisting it in his hand before placing it back on the board. That had spawned all these thoughts, the thoughts he happily forgot about to the best of his ability of his time in the BAU.

Unlike Rossi, Gideon didn't have it in him to glorify gory details on white pages, tainting them blacker with the sordid details of murder and rape. He couldn't stomach professing or training other field agents either, not after Sarah. The days of walking onto a college and not feeling guilty that someone didn't go home alive was now permanently epoxied with the images of Frank's torture chamber, that nagging, chewing pain behind the eyes always quick to follow. No, Jason Gideon did not profess anymore.

That left him with little to do, sure he had his hobbies, but his career had all but consumed his life and now staring at birds and chess-boards between his bouts of cooking took him only so far from that dark world. He wondered how a person with an eidetic memory would be able to cope successfully, or even if that were possible. He had a responsibility to Reid to understand if he had opened Pandora's box upon the young man's world by selecting him for the BAU. He took out his go-bag, a bag he had unpacked 283 times since retiring, and yet managed to pack 284 times.

Loading into his comfortable sedan, he steeled himself for a car-ride. He had been reading the news online lately, probably thanks to Garcia's influences but he'd never admit to it. The team was currently in the Chesapeake Bay area of Maryland, by what he gathered, it was a serial rapist graduating to murder, more precisely, graduating to _serial_ murder. He supposed much like John Wayne Gacy that the rapist was still keeping the one skill set sharp as he dappled in murder, too.

Reid set his bag done inside the hotel before moving toward the shower, miserably. Hotch raised an eyebrow watching his subordinate strip the layers off to expose his lover, as his own tie fell he transformed as well.

"You worried me today."

Holding up a singular, slender finger, pointed upward Reid gave the non-verbal cue for Hotch to shut up, the pointer finger tsked to the side in an admonishing wag. "I don't want to hear it. You think I had fun being pushed through a glass-pane?" He caught sight of his own bandaged wrist and forearm before giving it a dirty look.

Hotch approached in fast steps to wrap his arms around Reid's waist. "I love you."

"I love you too, but don't try to change the subject. That's my job." Reid smiled despite himself, and after going on the tips of his toes kissed Hotch's hairline before rocking back to the flats of his feet. "I need to take a shower, someone should accompany me to make sure I don't make a mess of my bandages though. Any volunteers?"

Hotch gave a wolfish grin to besmirch the sheepish way he raised his own hand to offer his services. Reid fully disrobed leaving the stark white bandage on soft translucent skin, managing to make his pasty complexion appear more tan as Spencer walked into the bathroom fully.

Aaron closed the gap between the two, managing to slide into the cramped tub and drawing the curtain around most of the other occupant, a stray arm sticking out and perpendicularly as the two fumbled with soap and each other.

The shower fellatio had been superb to Spencer, despite how uncomfortably close they were forced to get, and to keep his arm in that awkward angle constantly outside the shower (and thus not raking through Aaron's hair) had been challenging, but the pay-off was well-worth, sort of. Being shoved through a large pane of glass and genuinely being fearful of bleeding to death because some perp with an open warrant out on him decided it was worth adding seven years for assaulting a federal agent instead of pay child-support… it was hard to let fellatio be worth that. Now, mind blowing sex, that might be a compromise he could make, but only mind-blowing sex, not just a quick romp.

Aaron was allowing Spencer, patiently, to finish his own inner musings before pulling himself back upright, one hand still pushing Spencer's elbow outside the shower, and locking lips with him. His tongue and Spencer's seed, mingling over and around the mouth of his younger lover, pleasantly cumulating in the taste that was Dr. Spencer Reid and equally all parts amazing. Spencer didn't seem impressed by the flavor though. He pulled back, with the inch of space he was allotted before hitting shower-stall tile to give Aaron a look. He let out a wispy, "That's bitter…"

"Too much coffee." Aaron informed him, in a low, gruff, sexy voice that belayed the statement as to holding no merit with him, "I think it's just right."

Spencer pinched the bridge of Aaron's nose playfully at that. "You're talking too much." The smile evident as he spoke proved he didn't mind the role-reversal to Aaron's delight.

"We should cut the short." Aaron sighed, moving his hand for the spigot. "We still don't have our unsub."

"I know, I just got lucky and spooked a jerk who thought he had nothing to lose. He was wrong." Spencer said coldly, almost ecstatic that the dead-beat would get an extra seven years in a box for pushing him through that window, of course that was depending on the information he had. There was a good chance that if he rolled on his friend, like they supposed he would, that he'd get a set of wage reductions so that his baby's mama would simply get the child support due to her kids and Reid would be rewarded the joys of knowing that his little scare helped put away a rapist serial killer. That and work-man's comp bought a coffee. Okay, several coffees.

Aaron had pulled out an over-starched towel and began rubbing Spencer's hair with the scratchy thing dry. Spencer wasn't finding the treatment too favorable thanks to the quality of the material, but couldn't break himself from the proximity with Aaron. He leaned in close to Aaron, blowing hot breath to his ear erotically. Aaron felt the hardness that was Spencer in the front of his upper, inner thigh. His smile faltered at the knock to the door.

Not the outer door, but to the bathroom door. Both men reverts instantly to agent mode, assessing where the nearest gun was located, which coincidentally was the gun safe under the bed closest to the main entrance, opposite the kitchenette by seven paces.

Hotch held his finger to his mouth, as he signaled to Reid to get against the wall closest to the door, luckily his uninjured arm aligned with the plan. He'd open the door, take the brunt of any blitz attack, and then kick the ass of whoever the hell intruded on their bliss, and leave Reid to cover him as best as he'd be able to. That had been the plan, of course, until the knock was repeated and followed by a, "Reid, how long has Hotch been _fucking_ you?"

It would have amused Hotch to watch Reid deflate so quickly, if the circumstance didn't stand as it was.

"_Gideon_? What the hell are you doing in my hotel room in_ Maryland_?" Reid's voice cracked indignantly.

"I'll leave you two to finish up, I'll be downstairs. We need to talk. Does Strauss know what you're doing, Hotch?"

At the thought of the nagging blond, Hotch found himself going semi-soft, refusing to give Gideon the gloating rights of completely robbing him of his momentum, thanks to compartmentalization Hotch kept half a hard-on for sheer stubbornness.

Fumbling finally for a bathrobe, Reid wrapped the one around himself before telling Hotch with his eyes to stay there and not _dare_ exit until an 'all clear of Gideon' was given off. Hotch didn't have the heart to let Reid know that it was obvious Gideon would know Reid was lying, but he let his lover have the security he afforded himself. So he waited as Reid walked into an empty hotel room, deadbolt and chain-lock a hotel room door, and then ahem loudly enough for Hotch to realize the signal for what it was and walk into the room, dressing casually, be damned if he was putting the suit of for _Gideon_ of all people.

Reid was thankful, in the instance that he walked into the restaurant of the hotel, that it was before last-call as he spotted Gideon at the bar. He ordered up two drinks, a brandy and a shot, the shot went first, the brandy sipped at secondly as he looked at Gideon expectantly.

"Fucking your boss, not the smartest thing in the world, I'd have thought you'd know _better_ than that." Reid gave Gideon a tempered glance that was really a short-lived glare before signaling the bartender to return with two shots in the line-up. He knocked them back before meeting eyes with Gideon again.

"The drinks aren't that great and they're over-priced so I know you aren't here for that, so why _are_ you here?" Reid gave no illusion that he wanted to know that, but Gideon pretended he had and continued.

"I wanted to see how you were. I heard you hurt your arm."

"How?" Reid was indignant, not used to being stalked, but knowing he all but had to have been for the past half hour to have happened as it did. It was particularly perturbing that his former mentor was the one stalking him, apparently.

"I came to Maryland to reminisce, then I heard the police talking."

"You don't cross state lines to reminisce with a person you haven't written a letter to or spoken on the phone for several years with and then appear in their hotel rooms accusing them of…" his voice started haughtily but tapered at the confession, "…of sleeping with his boss, especially when followed by the names of their supervisors." His brow furrowed heatedly.

"He's emotionally damaged, he'll never give you a sense of security that you need. You'll never be first place to him, you'll always be number three at best, right behind his job and his son, and actually, I'd say four, because his image would come before you too. After all, he isn't here _now_, now is he?"

Reid signaled for another round and slid it to the empty seat beside him, "He will be. He had to ask the hotel clerk a question first." Reid's mind screamed a sound, 'Namely, why the hell you were let into our room' which Gideon picked up on with ease.

Before he had the chance to comment, Hotch came into the bar area, bee-lining for the empty seat beside Reid and taking in the sight of the drink before him, a scotch. He didn't think it was quite the social event to warrant a drink with an old colleague, but he assumed Reid had done that for bravado, proof that he knew Hotch would show.

He put his hand on the small of Reid's back, consciously, as he sat down, making damn sure to catch eyes with Gideon first. Reid was now sandwiched between to opposing forces who both _knew_ exactly what was best for the genius. He didn't envy him at the moment, and would have told Reid he should go back to his room but Gideon interrupted him, not surprisingly.

"This isn't what I came here to talk about. I wanted to know how you were doing since I left."

"So by talking about how, what and _who_ I have been doing would go against that, right." Reid nodded curtly. Hotch ran a finger along his eyebrow, a non-verbal cue to signal Reid to shut up that didn't work when Reid wasn't looking at him. He just owned up to Gideon what they had been accused of, well, not technically, but close enough to make him sweat. This was a high-stakes poker game.

"It's not like I'm in open communications with Strauss, you can drop your guard for crying out loud, Hotch. Well, maybe you shouldn't, they seem pretty damn lax already. What the hell are you thinking SHARING a hotel room… a single king suite no less!"

"We accommodated them when they were short one room. _They_ didn't know who went into what room."

"Right." Gideon looked at him incredulously, "Reid, I'm heading back tonight, we should catch up over dinner." His look read the invitation was instead of a conversation with Strauss, the kind of 'recommendation' that it was very mandatory to attend, Reid felt miserable all over again.

He mused internally if Hotch's fellatio would kiss and make it better twice in one night or if the charm was a one-time only deal.

TBC.


	2. Knight to Pawn

Bishop to Rook, Part 2 Knight to Pawn

Gideon had followed the Chesapeake Slasher case with hawk eyes, and two days after his impromptu visit to a particular hotel bar in Maryland, he was back in his cabin prepping for a glamorous pasta dish with a lemon sauce to compliment the flour-fried chicken, waiting for the moment when Reid would cross the threshold and converse about his current situation.

As a father figure, he did not approve of Hotch muscling in on Reid, age difference aside, the propriety of a straight man with a son convincing his subordinate that said subordinate is in love with his boss and then expect him to function at his job- they hadn't had that kind of fiasco since the original BAU profilers collared one Mr. David Rossi. Casanovas got people killed, and while it's true that Rossi himself never actually caused any of his lovers to die, the same could not be said about Hotch. How many months was it since Haley was killed by an unsub anyway? It was certainly within two years. How could he grieve so little for his own wife? Mother of his own child? Killed in the Hotchner home, and yet he was already able to seduce a member of his team! He wondered if Reid realized he was being used, and if that was part of the problem.

Reid constantly sought out approval, in his absence, the wake of Reid's need to feel that he was a part of something could easily have been all that Hotch needed to grasp onto, cap-sizing both intelligent men's judgment and convince them to proceed with one of the FBI's biggest taboos.

Fraternization with your friend could get you killed. He wondered if anyone had ever taken the time to explain propriety of romance to Reid. There was a good possibility that this fundamental lesson was lacking. Who would have thought the bashful genius who accompanied JJ to a Redskins game to switching teams and then going for his superior of all people?

Gideon refused to blame himself for this, there had to be a deep-seeded root cause other than his leaving. After all, people left the bureau all the time, there's no way his albeit abrupt departure could have the cascade effect of potentially destroying his own protégé's career. Maybe it was Henkel, maybe the drugs… or maybe it was Elle leaving, or maybe Rossi coming in. Right! Rossi! That son of a bitch practically preached free-love and grab-ass.

He was the bad influence, on both Reid and Hotch, Rossi had been Hotch's mentor back in the day, maybe that infectious attitude really did originate from him. It was much more likely that a change in philosophies would result in a change of policies. He almost missed the sound of Reid's beat-up car pulling up the gravel path, he fixed the plates, garnishing them with _garlic salt_ in a quaint shaker. As per the unspoken order, Reid had come alone. As he should have. Gideon had to have a thorough discussion about this destructive behavior, and if by some strange fluke reason went out the window… well, Gideon had always been more lax on Reid about physical prowess than say, Morgan.

Gideon couldn't help but examine Reid and all the cues his body language spoke of, defensive posturing begrudgingly told of casual interest into his insights, or maybe just about Jason's well-being, but he was hoping for the former more so. His outfit was different than usual, it was higher fashion. It struck him that Reid was now dressing to impress someone, and by no means was that _someone_ him. No, it was obviously for his boss Hotch, reminding him of just how hard his wayward pupil had fallen.

Obvious cues like that, and the time it takes to liquidate a wardrobe, the relationship had to be going on behind closed doors for months, and the rest of the BAU… had they not picked up on it? Were they all that rusty? How were they even catching serial killers still? Or maybe they knew and were apathetic, or even more damning optimistic about this…? Gideon's lower lip stuck out just a bit more as he thought of the possibilities.

"I'm not staying long. I have other plans for tonight." Reid insisted, "I don't even know why I'm here to justify this to you."

"Like hell you don't know why. You know that because it even needs justification that it isn't inherently right."

"To you." Reid corrected crisply. "It isn't inherently right to you, and why I'm admitting this after the way you left… so help me… had you not left the way you did, I might have sought your approval in this too, you meant something to me. You were a surrogate father to me."

Gideon listened to the past-participles as they fell off Reid's tongue, "Those aren't as past-tense as you're pretending. You are here after all."

"You threatened to go to our supervisor, you knew damn well I'd come here." Reid huffed.

"And I explained to Hotch that I wouldn't really, but if it's obvious to me, how long do you think it'll take the big-wigs to notice it too?"

"Let's see, what was it, 30 years of field-work as a profiler… versus the office bureaucrats that don't see me in the field or interacting with my team… hmm… tough one. I'll give them a day of being hyper-vigilant and put that at 5 months after I retire that a rumor was going around, and saying Hotch would be more likely to retire before I do, and thus quash the rumors' material and thus basis… I'll side with a 'they_ won't_ notice'."

"Sit down, let me get you something to drink." Gideon offered.

"No thanks, I already told you I have plans for later."

"I cooked dinner, it would be a waste not to at least have _some_."

"Hotch and I have dinner plans, I'm just here to tell you he makes me happy. As a friend you should want this for the two of us."

"For you to both commit career suicide?" He slid on a glove to handle the chilled wine, Reid gave him a bewildered look. "This red is the same age as you, you know. It's a good wine. You should try it, it's not as strong as brandy, but then again, that's why it's more flavorful."

"I can't stay, Gideon." Gideon pulled the bottle out of the ice, looking at it fondly.

"No, I suppose you can't." That was the last thing Reid really perceived at regular processing speed, next he knew, a bottle was thrown past him as a gloved hand forced itself against his mouth and nose compromising his airways. What he could tell from the lingering air was that the fruity smell he perceived was not in fact that of wine, but of diether.

After about two minutes of thrashing to try to get distance between the two of them, Reid was down onto his good knee, his bad knee falling beneath him, and then he was out, unconscious. He just hoped Aaron realized something was off when he didn't show later on.

With a crick in his neck, Dr. Spencer Reid was acutely aware that he had 'fallen asleep in the car', his own car betraying him as it moved further in directions unknown to him until he was brought to a quiet patch of wooded acres, the foliage too thick to make it possible to even find his latitude via his astral bearings. He narrowed his eyes, enraged. This was crossing a line, not one hashed off in the sand, either. This was a very pronounced, clearly articulated line inside the federal laws. No hand-waving could be done about being forcibly taken from location A via drugging to location B against will to not be kidnapping. He cursed his luck, loudly. In fact, he even did a sock-check… nope, they weren't matching. Must be a fluke.

"What the hell are you doing, Gideon?" Reid asked as he became aware of his predicament.

"Officially? Taking you camping spontaneously." He silently pondered for a moment before venturing, "These sort of outings are usually how people connect to their wayward kin."

Reid didn't look impressed, "You realize you could go for prison for this. For a long, long time… Jason, what the hell are you doing?"

"I already told you."

"Then what are you _thinking_?"

"I'm thinking about how this relationship will ruin your life one way or another!" He growled, "I care about you, you're like a son to me… I don't want to see you get hurt or destroyed by some reckless youthful indiscretion! On the one hand, if it fails, the team won't function, one of you will have to transfer, not to mention the risks you offer to each other and the safety of your entire team. If it doesn't fail, there's the constant risk of being caught, the taboo of being with an older man for crying out loud, how many negative labels are you trying to fix to yourself, and there's the favoritism and resentment that goes with it!"

"Gideon, do you know how long Hotch and I have been together?" Reid asked, tempered, it didn't take a profiler to realize he was about to strike out with the same prowess of a cobra. Methodical, deadly, and beautiful.

He waited for the head nod, "I suspect it's around 4 months."

Reid smiled, "There's a reason you retired, Gideon." At this, Jason looked puzzled. "We've been fucking since after Haley petitioned for a divorce, we've been having get-togethers since Hotch told me to 'catch a movie'."

To anyone else, that would have sounded like Hotch initiating a date, to Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia and Dr. Spencer Reid, that phrase specifically meant to go to an NA meeting for Beltway Cops.

"Those were events as friends." Gideon trumpeted.

"Like hell they were! I never did those sort of things with my _friends_! That's just what we wanted you guys to think. You think with my eidetic memory I can't put together a timeline about when and what my friends would be willing to hang out and when and what would trigger them to back down within a 99.998% accuracy?"

"When did Haley leave him?"

"She checked out of that marriage long before Hotch and I were messing around. I never pointed out the signs of _her_ cheating on _him_, but I didn't want to insult his intelligence. Everyone at the office saw it, the change right around the time with the Fisher King, after that delivery she started coming in less and less, his phone called fewer times during a case, and by the time the Henkel case started, she was fucking three separate men. For the record, Hotch was celibate by that point. And before you even dare accuse me of ruining a marriage, realize that everything Hotch did was of his volition. I worked around his schedule and he chose it too. We both want this and are happy."

"Your sense of happiness is cheap. Don't you want to have children of your own? Don't you want to pass on that brilliant mind of yours, or at least potentially do so?"

"Why does everyone seem to think I want to play Russian Roulette with a child's life just because I'm smart? My mother is a schizophrenic, I have deep-seeded trust issues with father figures, which is growing nicely thank you, and the one relationship in my life that makes me happiest… is with a man with a lovely son whom I am proud to have a hand in raising. That's enough for me, and, if it ever wasn't enough- we'd be able to adopt."

"Really, adopt? And do you know the exact statistic of a single male applying for adoption? Because I can assure you, in the eyes of Virginia, DC, Maryland, and every state even remotely close to where you live, that's what you're considered… you really think that would be successful? And with your job?"

"You've never even considered private adoptions, have you?" Reid smiled snarkily, at that moment he felt his phone vibrate and hoped to all hopes that Gideon didn't notice him flinch, or maybe Gideon wanted this confrontation to end smoothly and avoid sticky legal ramifications. He was certain Gideon hadn't made the connection that today wasn't just a date, it was an anniversary. This was the fourth year Hotch and Reid had actually been together.

Gideon extended his hand. "I know he's calling you. Hand over the phone."

Reid almost growled, "Make me."

Gideon just gave him a tempered, disconcerted look of a person who clearly didn't approve of the rebellious streak in his child, of course, Reid wasn't his child and didn't give a rat's ass if he approved or not. He sighed and fished into Reid's pocket for it, Reid swatted at his hand.

"Knock it off Gideon! This has gone way past too far. Bring me back now, I don't file the felony charges, can't make the same promise for Hotch, but if you keep walking this line you know where this leads."

Gideon's eyes looked sad as he withdrew a roll of duct-tape. Reid's eyes looked like saucers as he gaped.

"You're kidding me…"

"Give me the phone, I really don't have the intentions of harming you, but I need you to listen to me on this one, Reid."

"I swear to god I should have realized you snapped… who the hell breaks into a hotel room casually?" Reid began backing off, still trying to apply reason, he realized this was a forgotten cause before turning around and taking off, Gideon was suddenly on top of him, pinning his tumbling form to the ground. He felt his chin contact the earth forcefully and unpleasantly, it gave him a nice view of the stars, too bad they weren't the kind he could map.

Wrestling Reid's injured and uninjured arm behind him with the skill-set and patience of a well-seasoned FBI agent, Gideon continued to bind him careful not to apply unnecessary pressure, and to avoid any pain possible in direction proportion. He quickly searched Reid, took his cell phone, badge and gun and locked them into the car glove-box, rolled the windows up to leave them vented with two inches all the way around and then slid the keys inside said venting before taking Reid by the meat of his upper, uninjured, arm and walking him toward a decent-sized creek with a questionable looking motorboat docked on the banks. "Hop in."

"I'd rather not." Reid informed, again the defiant air was enveloping him. He didn't know this river, he didn't know how deep he was going to be taken and in whatever direction, even with a full moon, which tonight wasn't, the tree coverage made these things impossible for him to know visually. The only clues he had were the time he spent unconscious from ether applied properly was within an hour, the trees looked to be those native to northern Virginia, West Virginia and Maryland, and that he was getting further and further from his phone, in a west-northwest direction, thanks to the moss indicators on the north side of the tree trunks.

Aaron Hotchner returned the unopened bottle of champagne and the promissory ring-box into his pocket as he watched his phone click over to Spencer's voice mail _again_. This marked the ninth time, and the third hour he was late. Something was wrong and he needed to find out what, immediately.

He drew a heralding breath and dialed Garcia. By appearances, he knew his team was aware of his and Reid's relationship, though neither had technically outted themselves, they had come to their conclusions that in a room full of Profilers, two things were true, firstly privacy was limited and thus preserved with tooth and talon, and secondly that any worthwhile profiler saw through the damn hazy mask and hand-waving explanations to know full well they were dating. Seriously, who would otherwise call in to have a matchsies day where both men wore purple ties? Junior High School Girls did not count in that matter. That had been the first time they consciously hinted at it, it was subtle, tested the waters nicely, and had sent Rossi into Hotch's office to ask about whether or not he was feeling well. Dave never envisioned Hotch as the sort to even _own_ a _purple_ tie. He blamed it on Easter and Haley and was immediately reminded that it was November and he was divorced.

"Garcia…"

"Oracle of All Things Knowing, Thinking, and Spanking… Speak oh brave mortal."

"I need you to locate Reid for me. He isn't answering his cell."

"Sir? Do we have a case…?"

Hotch rolled his tongue over his mouth, "No, Reid was supposed to contact me about something pertaining to the office and failed to report in, I've been trying his phone for the course of three hours with no luck."

"Oh… Reid isn't the sort to forget important anniversaries, or even tiny anniversaries…" Garcia mentioned as she tapped away on her keypad procuring results, "Huh, that's …weird. Were you two planning on going camping?"

Hotch's eyebrow shot up in a clear indicator that things weren't right, "Of course not, can _you_ imagine Reid enjoying camping…? In the PG setting, Garcia. Practicality and fantasy are two very different things." He reminded her out of obligation.

"Right, boss-man. I remember one time Morgan and I went… oh never mind, huh, double weird!"

"What is?" Hotch grabbed his keys and left money on the table for the restaurant, he hadn't had more than breadsticks, but he paid for the bottle of champagne unopened and asked for them to hold it aside for him. He was outside as she continued.

"He's in the middle of nowhere, but there's another cell signal that's active. That's weird, since that's not a popular spot. In fact, most people don't even get signal there."

"Did you find out who that number belongs to?"

"Two guesses, sir, and here's your hint- the only phones that can even pick up that signal are military or federal issued."

"…Gideon." He gripped the phone tightly, angrily.

"Yes. Gideon, sir. Now, may I ask why Gideon took Reid camping on your anniversary?"

Hotch could have pierced her with his eyes had he actually been looking at her, annoyed by her curiosity especially when his own 'curiosity' was cued for wanting more information.

"He came to Maryland, the other day and confronted Reid in the bar. Send me Gideon's position."

"Sure thing, done and…" after a few moments clicking, Hotch felt his phone vibrate signaling an incoming email, "done."

"One more thing, Garcia."

"Sure thing… name it?"

"Call the team and have them on stand-by."

TBC.


	3. Knight's Pawn

Knight's Pawn

He was sawing his hands in a frenzied pitch, controlling the staccato strokes against the metal lip of the boat's brim to keep the motion out of sight. Sleight of hands, as it were, Reid knew even though he had to put an end to this and immediately that he couldn't just leave Gideon out to dry. The man needed help, psychiatric help… and while he had a degree in Psychology, even more importantly, he was a human being and couldn't just turn his back on a fellow member. He just hoped Hotch wouldn't have _his_ head examined for it.

He figured he probably deserved to, though. That thought was entertained alongside the thought of getting himself chipped. He seemed to get kidnapped enough for the investment to be worthwhile, sans the massive invasion of privacy he'd have if Garcia _ever_ found out about it. He felt the first bits of tape rip. He used the metal lip to catch one of the torn corners and then proceeded to pull, that rip was loud enough to draw Gideon's attention to Reid's dismay.

"Let's try this again, shall we? Turn the boat around, take me back to my car, and leave. If you don't… this becomes a federal offense. If you do, I overlook it, buy Hotch flowers… and hope he doesn't ask too many questions." Reid realized he should have shut up instead of clue Gideon in on his and Hotch's date, though maybe the pressure would be better. He was _expected_ somewhere. Someone would know he was gone, and have the resources to find out where and why.

Gideon locked eyes with Reid, his authoritative, alpha-male look was a fraction of what Hotch could pull off, hell it wasn't even as much as Morgan could manage, and Reid refused to back down at it, instead he pulled his hands forward. "I'm done with this game, Gideon. _Turn it around_." He could see Gideon's eyes shine sadly at that.

"That isn't an option. I really wish you'd just behave like the good kid that you are…"

"I am 29 fucking years old I am not a KID god damn it! I can make my own decisions and know what I want, and am aware of the consequences, now cut the crap Gideon. Think about what YOU'RE doing… seriously think about it! You were in Georgia with me, you know full fucking well what this is doing to me!"

Gideon leaned closer toward Reid, drawing out a vile, "Now you listen to _me_… you're damn right I know about what happened in Georgia, and I'm trying very hard to not have to resort to similar tactics, so sit down, shut up and just steal yourself for a long chat otherwise, so help me, I will plunge this into that tired vein of yours in the nook of your left elbow where you shot up for over 3 months and we'll STILL go exactly where I plan on going with you. Is that what you want? To feel more like a martyr? More like a victim?"

Reid's eyes went wide, his jaw slacked at the threat, not because he thought it was a shock-value bluff, but because in that moment that crazed look in Gideon's eyes told him he'd do it, too.

Reid broke off eye contact, not blinking nearly as much as his dry eyes would have preferred, his mouth still agape at the threat, he was now shooting through tallies in his mind, ratios, thoughts, organizing thousands of scenarios and categorizing the likelihood of him falling into each one, ranking them. Where was this going…? He was sure to hell and in a hand-basket was a very, very viable possibility.

This type of dissociative break was definitely a mark of PTSD, but it was more than that, Gideon was in some semblance of control, it wasn't some pure hallucination, it was a paranoid delusion… more specifically a schizoid episode. Reid knew those warning signs well, so he was sure he was picking up on it correctly. After all, that was just one of the bullets loaded into the proverbial revolver of life pointed at his head— '_No, stop it!_' Reid chided himself, thinking about Raphael at this exact moment would benefit Gideon, not Reid and he couldn't lose any ground, he was already working up hill as it were!

How do you get through to a schizoid when they were in the bouts of a paranoid fit? He could play along, but he was sure that would be seen as suspicious, he could wait it out… but he didn't know where he was, what Gideon was truly capable of at this point, let alone if this was going to end in a hail of bullets… No, it wouldn't go that far. Hotch would never… Reid tried to recalibrate, he actually might. He was very protective of Reid, and instincts would push Gideon into Unsub, which at the moment he was acting enough like where the functional compartmentalizing minds of BAU team members would easily fall into stride with. No, he had to resolve this immediately and on his own if he wanted this to go away as quietly and with the fewest casualties as possible.

"You keep saying you're going to give me some stern talking to and then you just keep going quiet. Are you planning to kill me, or something, Gideon? You do realize that's what you're making me think… don't you?" Maybe reverse psychology, make the man realize _just_ how psychotic his own thoughts are, shock him back into the righteous path.

"I know you don't think that. You know I'm desperate to show you just how big of a mistake you're making. Think about it this way, I'm willing to stake my life on it that your relationship with Hotch can get someone killed. Someone you care about, no less. I believe that strongly in how wrong it is. If it's me instead of Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia… so be it. I could go either way with Rossi, but that's not the point. You are _naïve_, Reid. You don't know the kind of pain you're getting yourself into. I know you can't possibly understand it, it's part of the condition of the naivety. So if I have to prove it to you… if it takes that, I think you can get over everything then."

"Now who's trying for the martyrdom bullshit? You don't really plan on dying… and you know that if it got to that point you'd destroy both of our lives, let alone careers and that's not your goal. So what are you really planning?"

Gideon smiled, "That's more like it. Now you're thinking like a profiler… once we get you back to using logic, you should snap out of your hormonal haze and get over the Hotch-itch you have."

"Four years is not a fucking itch!" Reid spat out, again swearing. He knew this would punctuate a stark contrast to the Reid Gideon knew, but simultaneously worried he'd just write it off as some 'teenage rebellion'. How far was his delusion about Reid being his son, anyway? Sure, protégé replaced the word outwardly in context, but the same thought of 'continuation' was clearly linked with paternal instincts, so really the word wasn't as far off as Reid would have hoped. He just hoped Hotch would figure it out soon, how long had it even been, anyway? Two hours…?

Gideon fished his arm into the water, coming up with a rope, he began to pull it guiding him into a moldy dock, beside it a water shed that would probably be condemned if any living soul outside of being bat-shit crazy or desperate had come and inspected it. He was starting to realize woods this rural with the areas possible to expand to were numerous, but many of those were accessible to civilians, and that wasn't Gideon's style.

Trying to think, he realized he had to be on a government-owned piece of land. It's isolated, people don't go too deep into it, and if they _DID_…? Well, they'd never report hearing screams, because that would out them for trespassing.

Gideon unfolded two chairs, pushing Reid to sit in one before padlocking the entrance and joining him. Reid was really favoring the bat-shit crazy working hypothesis as he looked around the room. This… this wasn't even fragments of Gideon's psyche in here, this… he was channeling Frank of all the nut-jobs…

Frank Breitkopf, one of the few crime scenes that ever had blanched Reid and he had been standing next to Hotch. Sure, it was after the Henkel case, but it did make what Charles Henkel and Raphael do look like children's play.

He shuddered, then he stiffened, he couldn't _let_ this have an effect on him! Gideon could be using this to condition him, how sane was that man right now? Well, sane wasn't the right coin of phrase, how aware was he, then? To be dissociated and detached enough to look at it clinically and find the most pragmatic way to break a psyche… and how long would it take a great profiling mind, when twisted and motivated enough, like Gideon to warp Reid's views to what he wanted? Sure he hadn't used any physical force yet, per say… but would he have to? Could he _bring_ himself to _hurt_ Gideon? Gideon, like a _father_ to him, Gideon?

He was letting this get to him more than he should allow, he just had to hold out for Hotch. He'd come, he'd understand, he'd realize, he'd rescue him. Hotch always did. Even so far back as in a Virginian hospital, the man had antagonized a narcissistic psychotic to make sure he focused on Hotch and _not_ Reid. He was that protective of him, even way back when. He even apologized for kicking him, despite that being what saved their lives and the lives of 12 other hostages.

He latched onto that thought. He knew Hotch would come, that'd he'd get through this and get Gideon the help he needed. Until then, he just couldn't antagonize Gideon, if the other man was pushed too far he might do something they'd all regret, and Reid had had enough of those over the past few years to not want to collect any more.

As Reid steeled himself, encroaching the close of the second hour inside the cabin with Gideon's punctuated rantings about the morality of his illicit affairs, Hotch was busy with trying to jimmy the door to Reid's car. Regrettably, Hotch had never mastered picking car locks, unlike Morgan with his years on the Baltimore Police Force. Even Reid had been good at picking locks, but he always explained the sleight of hands easing it's way into it… he suddenly thought, warm but simultaneously bitter that Reid probably wasn't as good of a kid as everyone thought he had been. Sure he knew Spencer's fun was harmless fun, but he also worried about what tricks Jack might pick up and hoped that his fun would also be the kind that shied away from arrest records despite the potential to do a large amount of property damage if so correctly applied. He was bitter that he wasn't sharing the conversation over a glass of champagne about what sort of strategies they'd develop when Jack entered the rebellious teenager phase, instead he was picking a lock to get into his lover's car and stop a former colleague from trying to wedge them apart.

A currently psychotic former colleague, after all… who the hell else would kidnap a federal agent when they knew the risks if not a psychopath? And Hotch prayed that if Gideon had crossed that it was in the direction of psychotic and not psychopath. Psychotics did a stint in a mental asylum, Psychopaths did a stint in Club Feb or State Prison. Neither of the latter places would be a long-lived retirement home for Gideon. Garcia was pulling bank records for their former coworker as he worked.

The others were combing through those financial trails and establishing a profile, they weren't liking what they saw. They all knew Gideon dropped off the grid, as Garcia'd called it, after Frank Breitkopf killed Sarah, but eventually, when he was sure the others weren't looking, he came back onto the grid, he resurfaced doing hobbies of his, his pension paid rent… Aaron had made damn sure of that much for his once-friend, but now…? For the past two months he was back to that lifestyle so closely associated to PTSD yet so different than his bout with it from Boston so many years ago. It amazed Hotch that Boston no longer held the same symbolic meaning as it had from say, five years ago. No, it was different now… but he had Reid, he had Jack… and while he knew Haley had cheated on him he had never wished her an end like that. He simply had moved on, and she was deprived of that chance.

He heard a click, he let out a sigh of makeshift accomplishment. He _should_ have managed that ten minutes ago, instead of fumbling for fifteen minutes before getting the damn thing to give. He searched the car, dialed speed-dial 2, 1 was for voice messages, it came default on his phone and he'd never bothered to reset it. 3 was Jessica's number, 4 was Garcia's, 5 was Dave's, 6, Morgan, 7 JJ, 8 Prentiss, 9 …well, it was sad that he had 911 on speed dial, but he did. He just hoped today wouldn't be the day he dialed 9.

Thanks to a humming sound coming from Reid's glove box, Hotch quickly located the device, Reid's badge and his gun. A mixed blessing, sure it meant Reid was unarmed, but Gideon never was one to have firearms lying about, and since he had handed his own in when he retired and Garcia had yet to tag the purchase of any firearm- be it a rifle to a pea shooter and she had checked… it meant they were unarmed. He had no idea if Gideon had it in him to point a gun at Reid, or even at Hotch… he doubted it, he didn't even have it in him to call Strauss and had he really wanted to be a dick, he could have just placed a phone call.

As Hotch thought about it more, the less he thought this was really a problem about he and Spencer being together. It was about Spencer, Spencer being close to someone else… it was a possessive act of a borderline personality type, maybe even a dissociative personality disorder. Gideon always had been distant, but this was beyond distant. He had cut himself off from everyone he had known for years, came back suddenly… he wondered what his team was finding out about what happened two months ago, when Jason Gideon fell back off the face of the Earth.

He wondered that, and how the hell he was going to trek 3 miles through woods to get to where his GPS indicated Gideon's phone, and presumably Reid and Gideon to be.

As he started his trek, Morgan's name and number flashed across the faceplate of his phone and he answered it on the end half of the first ring. "Hotch, here."

"Man… you're not going to like this. Apparently, Gideon's son… Stephen… two months ago he died in a car crash…He _and_ his fiancée."

There was a pause as it was lining into place, "Apparently, he and Stephen had reconciled recently, he was headed over to introduce him to his future estranged daughter-in-law."

"Shit!" Hotch huffed into his phone and Morgan knew it meant the man was sprinting, and having a conversation with him at once. "Is there any red-flag indicator that he was planning an end-game? Look! Make sure he wasn't liquidating assets and paying off debts!"

"Garcia's on that, Hotch. That wasn't the worst of the news though."

"Spill it…" Hotch continued, the balance of running and holding the phone was precarious, robbing him of speed he doubted he'd want to lose.

Morgan paused to think of how to say it, "Garcia didn't find any firearm purchases, but she's found a string of cash receipts from places semi-local to your location from last night… all with surveillance matching Gideon's description of some nasty stuff. It includes diabetic needles."

It wasn't Derek Morgan's first picnic, he knew that diabetic needles were what was known in the medical profession as 'subdural' needles, 'intravenous' needles were the sort that could support the force to shoot up into the blood-stream, subdural needle tips broke off, that's why IV drug addicts would hold onto a dirty needle for ages instead of try to grab diabetic supplies, because if the tip broke off and pierced something down the pipes, like blood vessels in the lungs or head or heart, there were problems, bad ones, _fatal_ ones.

"Well he wouldn't just get diabetic needles. Find out what drugs he grabbed to go with it." Hotch's mind was screaming, he knew what that realization would do to Reid. Reid was more fragile than he looked, fragile like glass… in normal circumstances he could contain things, keep it together, but in the wrong pitch or hit at a certain angle and he'd shatter and you couldn't put him back together without losing the bulk of the pieces and getting blood everywhere. He'd remember trying to pull him back together in the past. It had been hard, almost impossible. He did it because he loved him, he was friends and coworkers with him, and he'd do it again if he had to. He just really, really didn't _want_ to _have to_.

"Looks like sedatives… but he could find anything on the street Hotch, and Garcia _can't_ trace that, no matter how great she is." Morgan said. Hotch grunted and hung up, now running faster with both his arms in full swing. His strides grew longer now that he could afford the extra allotment of balance.

TBC.


	4. Queen to Knight

Queen to Knight

Eyes glazed over, Reid's hands trembled, trying to force themselves forward. He kept telling himself this wasn't happening, that _he_ wouldn't do this to him, that he'd _stop_… that he _had_ to _stop_, but it didn't happen. Gideon inserted the needle into him and shot a cool clear liquid inside him.

He shivered, he didn't even recognize why he'd have done it as his mind fogged over. He hadn't used any drugs in years, and the potency of this one as it kicked in scared him. Just the sensation of that pinch before the metal slid in had made his body instantly expecting, he loathed himself for that. The room around his was sloping to it's side, that made no sense Reid knew intuitively, so he realized he was the one slouching to a side. He fell off the folding chair and hit the ground with a thud. He was vaguely aware of the hand-print of pink bleeding through his white bandage over his arm. Where Gideon had squeezed was bleeding through, he wondered if any of his sutures were torn. As pink became red he started to think it was fairly likely.

He felt dizzy as seconds turned to a minute, and yet he still realized far too much red was coming through white to be good.

Gideon was talking again, frantically waving his arms for emphasis, had Reid pushed too hard? He remembered asking him how Stephen would feel to know his dad had kidnapped him… and then his demeanor had changed. Drastically. He started talking about talking with Stephen, about bringing it up between the three of them… he thought it was a step in the right direction until he felt the needle-stick. His head was getting heavy, his neck was having a hard time keeping it propped upright.

That hand was gesticulating less now, moving back to the pocket housing what Reid suspected was a sedative. He withdrew the needle.

Reid's eyes went wide, "Gideon… not another… can't take more…" he was trying to plead, trying to reason, trying to not OD on a drug he didn't even know, but none of that seemed to reach the other. He began crawling on his hands away from the chair, toward the door, dragging his legs behind him, they themselves weighed far too much to move. Even the biting sting in his arm was fighting him on this. "You said… you weren't… trying to… kill me!" He panted.

"You were the one who wanted to talk to Stephen." Gideon acted like it was as if he were being handed a phone upon request then suddenly denying it as if it were an insult.

"…What the hell… Gideon…?"

"Stephen's dead. How else do you talk to the dead?"

Reid's eyes went wider, it suddenly was making sense. "When…?"

"Two months ago. He and his _fiancée_, both." Everything clicked into place.

"Jesus… Gideon… just because he died… doesn't mean… Hotch and I were going to… leave you like that…!" It became too hard to focus, too hard to keep his eyes open, but as his lids fell shut he could tell Gideon was trying his damnedest not to cry.

"_Checkmate._"

'_Gideon…?'_ _Reid wondered to himself. He looked at the board in front of him. He was moving the piece, so why did Gideon call the checkmate…? It wasn't even a checkmate, it was a check. He looked at what laid before him. The game had changed, they hadn't been following the rules. Gideon had left himself in check to checkmate Reid. There were pieces missing, parts of the board gone, the dimensions off._

"_Definitely not on your game today." Prentiss offered, she smiled and placed a third set of pieces, red, against the board baffling Reid further. They were adding factors in a straight-forward strategy game. _

'_What the hell…?' It reminded him of how Death would play a game against a challenger, if the challenger was ready to play for his life. He remembered that in some instances, Death cheated, but then again, sometimes people cheated Death, so it must be fair._

_He moved his white bishop into Gideon's king, completing his check into a checkmate that Gideon had ignored. "You lose."_

"_So do you." He mentioned, looking at the extra set on the board, the red pieces were now drops of blood coming from his arm, Prentiss nowhere in sight. "Mutual defeat."_

"_That goes against the natural order, doesn't it…? Old outliving young…?"_

"_I know. That's why I'm not going to let you die." Reid's mind reeled, that was Gideon speaking, it was Hotch._

"_Hotch…!"_

Gideon had injected himself for a third time as Hotch struggled with the door. He could see through the window, Reid lying there on the ground, Gideon sitting in that damn chair, he was trying to commit homicide-suicide… that selfish bastard.

He kicked the door twice before dislodging it, it had hurt like hell be he managed to break the molding in with the door, padlock and all tottering overtop Reid who groaned at the sudden weight.

"REID!" Reid blinked back the tiredness to try to focus on the present. His arm was burning, something was pushing into him, "Reid! Reid open your eyes… you have to stay awake…!"

Hotch was dialing now… 911? No, Garcia, Reid realized.

"Garcia, we need a medevac at the location… two." He readjusted the hold on Reid's wrist, "He used something on Reid… Reid, if you can hear me I need you to try to wake up… come on, Spencer… don't do this to me…"

Reid's fingers twitched, he was sure with Hotch pinning his arm he could feel the muscles underneath his grip flex. He could hear Hotch smile under his tone of speech, it was a subtle difference but he could see it irradiate from behind his eyelids like falling asleep in the sun.

"Gideon's down, I have to check… I'll be right back, just hold on for me, that's an order."

'Jesus, was this his End Game?' Hotch thought, not daring to mention it and let Reid hear him. He wasn't sure if Reid even knew Gideon was down, he was so out of it. He checked Gideon's pulse. He wasn't sure how he felt when he felt the older man's carotid artery twitch periodically under his fingertips. He was alive, which he knew was probably for the best, but simultaneously… he looked at Spencer, really was that fair?

He went back to Reid, if he had to consciously choose which life to save, there was no way it wouldn't be Reid's when given the options.

"Reid you have to hang on for me… I have some important questions I have to ask you." He said continuing he added, "Besides… I have to chew you out for standing me up… Do you know how long I had that reservation for? A year. I organized it a year ago, Reid. On our last anniversary. You'd better plan on a way of making that up to me."

He stopped talking when he noticed Reid blinking, he was trying to come around. Hotch was trying to figure out how long Reid had been under the influence of the drug, his bleeding wasn't slowing down but it was a petered bleed. Then again, Reid had lost a bit of blood before the doctors had sutured it up the first time… and hadn't gotten a transfusion, it was possible that he could bleed to death…

"_You know as much as I was afraid of hurting others, I never wanted to be alone." Gideon was looking at Reid over the board now, but Reid wasn't a player anymore, now he was a piece. He glanced at his fellow pieces, Hotch was there too, so was Morgan, and Prentiss, JJ, Garcia… some paramedics and cops he didn't even know were there too. "But I'd never kill you. It's against the natural order of things."_

_He was smiling, that too-smug I saw it coming and you didn't smile he'd have when truly contented._

_Reid's eyes widened, "You only wanted me to be here at the end… you weren't going to really kill me at all… but then why, why say what you did about Hotch and me?"_

"_Father of the bride can hardly just hand the bride over without some grand-standing, now can he?"_

_Reid was crying. He couldn't help it, he was in this position so that any would-be rescuers wouldn't help Gideon, he was a decoy._

"Help… him…" Reid tried to find his voice, the drugs making it hard for the words to come out as anything but scratched garble. "Hotch… help… Gideon… I'll… be… fine…!" He kept repeating the mantra hoping somehow it would be heard, that it would slip past the veil and reach the ears of someone more capable than himself at the moment.

"Reid!" Hotch snatched upon the hope of hearing Reid's voice, "Reid just hang on… I'm cordoning off the bleeding, you're going to be fine… I swear to god I won't let you die-"

"Gideon's dying… I'll be… fine… help… Gideon… please… help… him…" The mantra restarted, Reid unsure if any of his words reached anyone as the shed flooded with search-beams and a whooping sound of helicopter blades pulling air around them in fast rotation.

Hotch looked at Reid daftly, then back to Gideon, Hotch did something that seemed to go against his grain when he stood up and walked away from Reid's prone form, but since he was so used to taking Reid's suggestions on the field it seemed natural to do so now, too. Then, he started the chest compressions. Like hell he'd let Gideon have his way, the man got that far too much in life as it were, be damned if he'd let him walk into the sunset with the winning hand one last time. The bastard would have to face the consequences of his actions and Spencer and Aaron's personal wraths.

TBC.


	5. Bishop to Queen

Bishop to Queen

Hotch positioned the curtain to divide Reid from Gideon, but more to block Gideon from Reid. Even subconsciously he was enraged at the man, even if he himself refused to let the man out of his scrutinizing glare. He set a small box from his pocket onto a mobile tray that was pushed to the side of Reid's bed.

This was a waiting game, he knew them well, and every time it was a victim his heart ached for them, but never as much as it did now. Did that make him cold? He supposed it was normal that he shielded himself from the victims' to some degree lest he really would go insane. He looked at Gideon, that could be a very warped mirror of his future self. Or could have been, had it not been for having Reid in his own life. Reid grounded him, he completed him.

"Spencer, please wake up…" He whispered into Reid's ear as he brushed the hair out of his face. The tox report was still out, going into it, all the doctors knew was that he was drugged with an unknown amount of sedative against his will and that he had lost blood both prior to today's crisis and during the crisis. In all, Reid required eight more stitches, and for his sutures to be replaced and wound redressed. In his drugged state he was mumbling a constant script all dedicating to keeping Gideon alive, which pissed Hotch off more than he supposed it should.

Spencer hadn't said anything to him about any undying love, but he supposed that was better… for one, it meant Reid had unfinished business and a very big reason to pull through, two it kept collateral damage to a minimum. As it were, Hotch was already brushing off questions about why he was the one looking for Reid or how come he didn't bring his team. There were a lot of questions like that, ones that he skillfully was able to deter, deflect, or debase depending on his exact answer. He opted to go with the 'go over your head and this case is our case because it includes both kidnapping AND federal agents' option. After all, if it was his case, he wouldn't have to deal with these questions until it came to prosecuting… which he knew full well this case wouldn't make it to. Spencer would never allow it.

He took Reid's hand in his, squeezing it gently, "I know you've got to be really tired, but I really want to hear your voice. Please, for me?"

"N-Aaron, d'you know what time it is…?"

Hotch smiled sadly, worry weighed down on his glance making his bags under his eyes especially haggard. "Well, you're the one who blew me off." He jested, it didn't upset him, not now after all, how could it? Reid was alive, he was going to be alright… sure he could lecture him about the merits of communicating or telling him about his plans to have visited Gideon, but he hadn't and at this point it was moot. He was just glad he had found Reid and had enough time to intervene, that everyone who went in there came out alive. Those kind of wins were rare for the BAU and he relished in the important victory.

"Sorry 'bout that… you know I didn' wanna miss it…" Reid's voice was riddled with sleepiness.

"I know, I forgive you, but don't do it again." His smile was softer now, "How are you holding up…?

He could see Reid sniffle, "He drugged me… Aaron… he… _he_ did it." The accusation though unspoken was clear to Hotch, he watched as Reid's mask slipped and tears painted his cheek.

"Shh… shh, Reid it's going to be okay. This wasn't your fault, the doctors are finding out right now what he slipped you." Hotch was careful not to use the phrase 'gave you' in order to prevent the debacle of making Reid feel persecuted when he'd done nothing wrong. He realized Reid must be wondering how Gideon was, even if he refused to say it—probably for Hotch's own benefit, but he couldn't be selfish and keep the truth from Reid, it would hurt him and that wasn't worth protecting his own ego. "Gideon's alive, Reid. Thanks to you. The paramedics were able to stabilize him, he's unconscious still, they think he might stay that way for a while… but, he'll live."

Reid squeezed Hotch's hand, "Good… but Aaron…"

"Yeah, Spencer?" He massaged Reid's hand gently in his own, "What do you need…?"

Reid shook his head, apparently unwilling to say whatever thought had struck him. Had he been off? Did Reid not want to even hear about the other man? It was possible, it only increased the likelihood that whatever 'selfish' thought Reid would have, the young man would be stymied over and suppress. He really was just genuinely that good of a person.

"I need to let the doctors know that you woke up. I'll be right back, so you stay awake for me, you got that?"

Reid nodded once, his eyelids droopy. Hotch arranged for the fastest room reassignment he could by waving around his badge and abusing his powers properly. He also was sure to inform a nurse of Reid's change in levels of consciousness before going back into the room to spot Reid, his eyes locked onto a small box with a questionable gaze.

"Did… someone…? Someone must have left it… but how…?" Reid said, obviously today he was anything but optimistic.

Aaron smiled, "I'll take care of that, just give me a few minutes okay?"

Spencer nodded, "The nurses'll probably have a lost-and-found or something…"

Aaron nodded, "I'm sure they do. But I think I know who it belongs to." Spencer's glance became more suspicious, but he said nothing as Aaron moved the box back to his pocket. Aaron wouldn't let anyone encroach upon their moment, Gideon be damned, to hell with the nurses… so he'd wait.

He was almost ready to break the silence when a doctor broke it for him, entering with lab print-outs. "Good morning, gentlemen. Dr. Reid, how do you feel today?"

Reid just gave him a sleepy none-too-pleased look. "Been better, been worse."

The doctor nodded, "I have your results back. Your toxicology panel came back. We're going to have to run some panels to make sure your kidney and liver functions aren't impeded, you were given a large dose of acetaminophen and doxylamine succinate."

Reid's demeanor soured, "You mean he tried to OD me on NyQuil…? Seriously…?" Reid let out an anguished groan of grogginess.

"Seems like." The doctor watched as Reid raked his fingers through his hair. "Have the nurses come in to change your bandages yet?"

Reid shook his head as Hotch nodded. "No…"

"Yes."

"Really… when…?" Reid looked at Hotch in confusion.

"You were still out of it, it was about two hours ago."

The doctor nodded, "Good, good. If you don't mind stepping outside for a moment, this requires some privacy, for me to gather the sample…" He held up a urine sampling cup as to drop the hint. Hotch met Reid's eyes seeking for his approval, whichever Reid wanted would be how he'd proceed, forget what the doctor suggested.

Reid grabbed Hotch's sleeve. "I'll see you when you get back."

Hotch nodded and raised his hand, he'd take the opportunity to check in with the team and find out how Gideon was doing.

Outside of the small alcove that was Reid's hospital suite, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ and Garcia were buzzing around waiting for any sort of news. Rossi, nowhere to be seen, was presumably with Gideon. Hotch shot Morgan a look.

"Rossi's having a chat with an old friend." He explained with a hand roll, "He figured it would be fitting for Gideon to wake up to hearing_ HIM_ going on and on. We're all inclined to agree."

"What room number is he in?" Hotch looked back at Reid's room before adding, "Reid's awake now, but he's still a bit out of it."

"Yeah, we pounced the doctor before he could get inside." Prentiss announced.

"Reid said it was an OD on the equivalent of NyQuil."

"It's room 208, just down the hall." Morgan pointed, letting the information sink in. "I can't believe Gideon drugged him… that's just… it's so wrong."

"Feel free to take it up with him. I'll be back shortly. When the doctor leaves Reid's room, someone should go in with him. He shouldn't have to be alone in there." The others nodded, Garcia quickly making it clear it would be her turn to sit in and visit him.

Hotch knocked once on the door to warn Rossi and then entered. Rossi smiled back at Hotch.

"Hotch, there you are. I was just telling Gideon about how the office has been livening up thanks to Kevin and Garcia, and Emily and myself. Spring must be in the air." He smiled and Hotch could practically see Gideon reeling behind his eyelids just at the sound of Rossi's grading voice. He deserved having his nerves graded for what he did, hell Hotch was sure he'd be able to arrange hot coals raking up him for what he pulled but wouldn't bring himself to it.

After all, Nietzsche had hit the nail on the head when he said, "If you stare into the Abyss long enough, the Abyss stares back at you." Hotch reminded himself this, and that Gideon deserved pity, not hatred. It didn't make him feel less anger, but it made him feel guilty about some of the anger at least. That was short lived though, because the second he imagined his lover, down the hall, so hurt and devastated and so vulnerable thanks to that much more of his fragile trust being ripped away from him, and he just couldn't feel guilty for despising his 'til late, possibly his longest-held friend. That was about right, wasn't it? Rossi and Gideon had been working together when Hotch had joined the BAU, but he had joined under Rossi. So, Rossi had been his mentor, they didn't have the same centralizing force at the time of a Unit Chief, the dynamics were different and by time it came to that, Gideon had invented the role and Rossi had surreptitiously retired. Honestly, most of the old-blood had been on the way out at that point. Hotch had briefly worked with Max Ryans before the old dog had went off to write books, in fact that was the retirement method of choice to bolster the pension.

"He's still out, huh?"

"Oh you know he's faking it. He just isn't man enough to have a heart to heart with me about romance." Rossi strutted. Reid would have called the bravado peacocking, he was sure. That he was masquerading his own woeful feelings with a show of superiority, to feel like he was the furthest thing from what Gideon had become and proof that the job would not consume him of all people.

Hotch smiled back to Rossi before glaring at Gideon, "Well, if he isn't still asleep, he should think long and hard about what he just did to someone as important to him as Spencer and realize there is no repairing that. No one's _that_ understanding. Not even Reid, and certainly not the rest of us. You don't have allies here right now, Jason. You've burned that bridge twice now."

He turned and left Rossi to his conversations, he felt better saying that to the unconscious man, it was his own brave front. Because as much as he wished what he said was true, he knew it was almost entirely a lie. Reid probably would forgive him, he's indefinitely understand him, and though he had betrayed the BAU, _Spencer_, twice the young genius would still probably try to help him. It was just his nature.

That was the thought that carried his feet back into Reid's room to spot Garcia blubbering over him, enthusiastically cheering for him to recover. He gave the techie a sympathetic look before she excused herself.

Reid glanced at Hotch before looking back down at the corner of the hospital bed, in a coy attempt to prompt him to sit down, Hotch supposed, but he wasn't ready for that just yet. He closed the door behind him as he approached the bed.

"Spence, I'm making some calls, I think we can make up that dinner sometime tomorrow if you're up to it."

Reid smiled, still exhausted. "That would be nice, I'm so sorry I ruined this evening for you… I know you were trying so hard to…"

"You don't know how to ruin anything, Spencer. You're alive, and pending lab results will be perfectly fine… how can I see that as anything but a win?" He kissed Reid's hand, "You and I both know when an unsub is dedicated enough to something, that they'll make it happen. And that's what Gideon was… I don't want to hear arguments, I know he's sick, I know the old him wouldn't have done this… but the Gideon that did do this has thoroughly pissed me off."

"Me too." Reid admitted in a small voice, "I don't… really want to try to categorize that right now though. It's too raw." He squeezed Hotch's hand, "I love you. You're the best thing to ever happen to me in my entire life, you know that, right?"

"Funny… I was going to say something similar about you." Hotch smiled.

Reid rolled his eyes, "You've definitely been spending too much time with Morgan and Rossi if you're reduced to recycling pick-up lines." He laughed slightly before diverting his eyes. "So that box… did you find the rightful owner yet…?"

Hotch smiled, "It hasn't made itself into the right hands yet, but I know who it belongs to."

"You just don't want to do it in the hospital, huh…?" Reid smiled, his confidence seemed to be returning and Hotch was sure Garcia had something to do with it.

"You should just concentrate on resting right now. As soon as you feel better, we can talk about who that might belong to."

"I thought you said you know who it belongs to." Reid smiled, it warmed Hotch to see him so expectant.

"Now, I didn't say that…" He touched the tip of Reid's nose, "The others will tear my throat out if I don't let them come in and visit, you know that, right?"

"Well, we can hardly have any more BAU members cross the crazy line, so you better let them in." Reid said, dismissively, he knew Hotch was changing subjects and realized he should just let him in this instance, it was for Hotch to decide when and how, but he was really hopeful Hotch hadn't just been really thoughtful and bought him a watch for his anniversary. He'd probably snap, not with how he was hinting at things.

Garcia and Morgan's return had been what encouraged Reid to think along the lines of DC's reformed policies about domestic partnership and gay marriage. While he was sure some things were stickier than others, a few things were worth cutting the red tape to have. Aaron Hotchner was always one of those things. So Reid focused on exactly what Hotch had suggested he focus on, getting out of the hospital with enough time to make a 7PM seating at a swank restaurant he was supposed to visit the night before.

TBC.


	6. Bishop to Rook

Reid looked around at the fancy table in front of him, slightly disappointed that he was underdressed for the occasion, but after getting out of the hospital, and Hotch immediately driving him over he just didn't have the time to make the reservation AND get dressed up to the nines… Hotch kept reassuring him, telling him he looked fine, that he was gorgeous, and that his earlobes were begging for his scrutiny, which he proved after closing the few strides of space between them and sucking on his left ear, tonguing it enough to get Reid flustered and frustrated at his buttons when his fine-motor skills were made questionable.

Hotch's fingers took up the dexterity challenge to do something counter-productive as he did up Reid's buttons.

"I love you Spencer." He mentioned, pulling back just a little to look at the shirt and be sure he aligned the buttons and their slots correctly.

"And I love you too Aaron." Reid draped his arms around Hotch, vengeance was a bitch, he kissed Aaron's hairline, smelling his cologne and feeling yet again underdressed for the occasion. He slipped from the hold and went to the bathroom, putting on a warm, earthy cologne that combined a woody scent with cinnamon and subtle hint of vanilla, a smell Aaron had once described as 'coming home' before looking at his shaggy appearance in the mirror. He took up his brush and began working his hair when Hotch came in behind him.

"We're going to have to leave soon if we're going to make it…" He almost thought he heard Aaron say something about how unfair it was for him to say he loves him and then go into the bathroom, but he was too busy processing how to make what he looked like now and into formal-attire in under ten minutes, he was currently on minute 8. Reid grabbed a sleek, narrow styled tie, his black shirt was more faded and warm than the deep, obsidian black of his tie and he thought it was a good balance against the light khakis. His left sock was red and white with a valentine-day themed heart print over argyle pattern, his right sock was solid tan except for the heel, toe and border at the top which were darker brown. He slipped on a pair of suede loafers before fixing his watch.

"Should I grab my sports jacket or a vest…?"

"It isn't cool, you probably don't need one."

Reid pondered for a moment, then as he started to close in on his closet doubting his entire ensemble, Hotch snagged him around the waist and pulled him in for a kiss. "You look amazing, and if we're late, they'll give the table away. We really have to go now if we're going to make it."

Feigning a pout, Reid played with Hotch's hair, "I just don't want to make you look bad, you're dressed perfectly… and I look, well, sloppy at best."

Aaron gave him a look, begging to disagree. "Let me be the judge of that…" He gave him a once-over with very lecherous looking eyes, and a pinch of lust before adding, "Nope, you still look far too good to be with me. Come on, we have to go."

Half-pulled out of the apartment and down the hall, Reid finally managed to keep pace with Hotch as they made a brisk walk to the car, no second-guessing about whether these pants really went that well with the shirt and tie to be further entertained. Hotch came around to the passenger door and opened it for Reid, the younger man blushed a little at the gesture.

It wasn't a gesture Hotch did often, because both realized their lover as a man may dislike the idea of being treated like the softer sex, but at the moment all Reid could think of was how charming Hotch was.

The drive to the restaurant was a bit hectic, despite Hotch playing Moonlit Sonata to set a romantic mood, romantic thigh-squeezing at 70mph was a bit of a mixed message, but Reid loved the contact regardless.

Despite the delays, they made it to the front of the restaurant in time for their reservation. A valet opened their doors for them then moved the car, Hotch tipped the man and got the plastic cap with his key's number before taking Reid's arm at the elbow, interlocking it with his own. It made Reid's breath hitch to be so overt about their relationship. Between work, and that gay still seemed to be a bit of a taboo, they just didn't get a lot of moments where they could just flaunt being together, not to say they didn't have movie dates or go to dinner and flirt… but usually those places were more down-to-earth. This was a five star restaurant.

Even though intellectually Reid knew it was a normal reaction for a couple, it was still a pleasant, warm feeling to be doing it. The two were escorted to a table underneath one of the several beautiful chandeliers that gave mood-lighting for the table. There, waiting for them, was a bottle of champagne and two glasses, a basket of freshly baked breadsticks, olive oil and butter. Hotch pulled a chair out for Reid, who eagerly took his seat before scanning the décor, about three tables down was a beautiful mural on the wall depicting what Reid suspected to be a Bacchus ritual. Hotch took his seat and looked around before locking his eyes on Reid as Reid still got used to the surroundings.

Truthfully, Hotch had probably committed the place to memory already, after waiting there for over an hour the other night. He smiled softly, Reid still looked tired, but his eyes were shining, something that yesterday he had not seen. Yesterday was one of the scarier moments in his life. He squeezed the box in his coat pocket, it was better not to think of that, it was better to think of this. This moment, Aaron knew he was a bit of a perfectionist, but damn it if there was ever a time to want things to go right, it was tonight. "Spencer, honestly… how are you feeling today?"

Reid stopped looking around in awe to watch Aaron's eyes on him, suddenly. The world fell away as he watched dark obsidian orbs sparkle in his own eyes. How did someone as cunning, assertive, and brave fall for him? Spencer smiled, "I'm coping…" he ran his fingers through his hair nervously, pulling a stray bang back toward his ear. His hair no longer long enough for it to actually tuck behind it neatly. "I can't say it's easy, I don't know what Gideon was thinking… probably that he didn't want to die alone… but, it hurts… you know, that he wanted to die in front of me. He didn't even realize my feelings in the matter… which makes it even more sad that he was that far gone. That… and the lengths he was willing to go to…" Reid's eyes felt wet forcing him to blink a bit trying to fight back any tears.

"I… uh… I'm sorry, this is a bit embarrassing…" He wiped at the edges of his eyes swiping back the tears, "…especially since this is so amazing… I mean, you found a beautiful place, Aaron. I love it. So, is it an Italian restaurant or French…? The décor hints Italian but the name…"

Aaron grabbed Spencer's hand and squeezed, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Spencer's mind stopped working. His eyes went wide before blinking back to normal size, he smiled sheepishly at Aaron then looked at the bottom corner of the table, "I'd like that too…"

"Spencer, I know it's a bit cliché of me, but…" Aaron gracefully maintained a hand-hold with Spencer as he kneeled to the side of the table, closing the distance to Spencer. He withdrew a velvet box from his left jacket pocket, squeezing Spencer's hand as he felt it tremble with excite… he knew it was a good sign, it was the same excited tremble Reid would get when he was about to climax when they'd both hold hands as Hotch pound into him taking him missionary style, a position they did on occasion. "Spencer, would you marry men?"

Reid's eyes went wide, mouth slack for a second time. For several long moments he didn't breath, blink or say anything. When he finally started to try to speak it came out in jumbled stutters, "B…but I thought… that with work, that we couldn't… I thought maybe it would be a dedication ring… but… but… you- you really want to… and officially… how would with work… could we even… … …" silence for a few moments, Hotch just let him gather the steam. He was glad he managed to dumbfound the genius, it was a rare feat and his stomach was butterflies, especially because he knew what the answer was going to be. After all, he was one hell of a profiler.

"You have to meet my mom first. You know that, right? I can't just write a letter about this. Yes Aaron Hotchner, I would love to marry you! I'd be honored…" Reid decided to stop his own rant by pulling Hotch's face to his to lock lips. There was a mix of claps from some other restaurant goers and some gawkers who looked disgusted, the wait-staff approached after a moment and after a few congratulations mentioned their recommendation of the day and then described the dishes on the menu.

Reid half listened as Hotch slipped a platinum band around his left ring finger. The band was a masculine, minimalist design. Not surprising to Reid, since it would be the most efficient, least likely to snag, but he suspected that inside the ring would be different. He suspected inside to be engraved with some epiphany or quote. Hotch let go of Reid's hand and Reid instantly was fiddling with the ring. "When should we you know…?"

"How does an October wedding sound to you?"

Reid blushed a bit, he never really had put much thought into a ceremony, and even now just the idea of a wedding on top of getting married to Hotch was making him light-headed and euphoric. By the eighth cycle of spinning the ring on his finger to make it accustomed to the new appendage, their waiter had returned with their first course.

A light keish with artichoke hearts and ham went with Aaron's entrée while Spencer had a tuna tartar with an avocado, spicy garnish that reminded him a bit of guacamole. The abbreviated five course meal had two appetizer courses, a main course followed by a salad and then dessert. They had chosen the second course to be the house soup, and while Aaron's main course had been filet mignon, Spencer had ordered lamb. Each course tasted delicious and was paired perfectly with each wine the sommelier suggested, the champagne helped to keep a constant buzz among the men, and at the end, when Spencer's flan came out and Aaron's truffle-flavored ice cream came out Spencer posed the argument that the Napolean pastry was actually of Italian design.

Immediately following dinner, the two decided to walk around the area for a while, stumbling upon a theater, they even managed to get balcony seats for a dance troupe performing a ballet based off of what Hotch suspected to be Giselle. Spencer laid his head onto Aaron's shoulder, right hand entwined with his lover's left hand, his left hand on top of them both, squeezing softly. He could only see one additional thing to add to the agenda for tonight to end perfectly, and after they went back to the restaurant to pick up Hotch's car, they headed back to Spencer's place where Aaron was quickly pulled inside and against Spencer's lips.

Within the small apartment, Reid had managed to make his back contact every wall he had that landed in between the entryway and his bed, that was a total of 10, he thought in this instance that it was 9 too many, but he'd deal with it.

He didn't care that his back ached dully, he deduced drinking after an OD of acetaminophen was probably a very stupid thing to do, but he couldn't care about that as Aaron took possession of his bare skin, raking his fingers over his back, his sides, his hips down to his thighs… he meanwhile took the time to maneuver his hands up and down Hotch's torso, appropriating his neck to bring it closer as he sucked on the muscular line dividing the front left side of his neck from the back, his tongue moved lower toward his collar bone and he began to leave love bites there as well, marking the territories as he went.

"Oh god… Spencer… I want you so badly right now."

Spencer smirked through his ministrations, he let his tongue trail down Hotch's chest sucking and kissing and nipping as he dipped lower, Hotch pushed him onto the bed, climbing on top of him.

"I'm hot for you…" Reid mentioned with a wolfish smile no one would expect to be in his repertoire except for Hotch, which was how Reid preferred it. Hotch let out a soft grunt as he climbed on top of him.

TBC.


End file.
